


Motivation For Myself?

by YinYangZodiac



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bad Poetry, How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Internal Conflict, Not My Fault, Oh My God, Poetry, Teen Angst, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 05:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YinYangZodiac/pseuds/YinYangZodiac
Summary: I'm having some thick writer's block for my stories at the moment. So I decided to post some poetry from my creative writing classes last year. Maybe I can get the next chapters and parts of my stories out after this.





	1. Monster Kids

**Author's Note:**

> So, here we are. This may or may not reveal things about me. All of the following haven't been edited since I walked our of school on the last day. I might edit them at a later date. I'll need something to do in my classes next year when I have free time.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

when we were all kids  
we feared the little monsters under our beds  
now that we are teens  
we can fear the monsters inside our heads

as we become adults  
we may fear the monsters we call friends  
or the monsters that are not under our beds  
but beside us with ours heads on their chest


	2. Fragile

The heart is as fragile as a phone  
not completely as durable as a bone  
and the rich disregards  
how easy it is to break into shards  
and how I'm left on my own


	3. Feelings Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I don't like this one much, but it is funny.

Here's the thing about feelings  
 _They suck_  
Feelings can suck so much  
You're happy one minute  
Then you're sad  
 _Which sucks_  
Or maybe you're feeling chill  
Then you see the person you like  
And you feel giddy and nervous  
 _Also sucks_  
That's when you say you're out  
And swallow the stupid butterflies  
Thay don't know how to stop  
 _Butterflies suck_  
And you lay on your bed because of feelings


	4. Mr. Dinosaur

Mr. Dinosaur told me that He is hungry  
but I'm not sure what He could eat.  
It upsets me to know that He is hungry,  
I give Him food every night to eat.

_Why are you hungry?_

_Did I not feed you enough?_

I brought extra home yesterday  
I'm still tired from carrying  
the weight of it on my shoulders  
I think they are bruised this time

I would like my feelings back  
please  
Where did He put them,  
Mr. Dinosaur?

_Are they under my bed?_

_I don't remember seeing them there before_

I don't think I can carry more  
The loads have gotten very,  
very heavy on my shoulders  
since I started high school

I would like my feelings back  
please  
My mother is getting very  
concerned


	5. Spill

What is in a name? What is in my name?  
The blood of war and peace if innocence?  
Violence claims a name, claims a home. All the  
fear that it brings. Striking you to the core.  
Pain burns bright and hot, a pure red. But why  
is it pure? Red is the color of love  
and hate and the bitter red that you swal-  
-low because you bite yours tood hard. Is  
this what I have become? A pool of red  
that drenches your socks like rain to your hair? Cold,  
brutal and sticky. It sticks to ever-  
-ything. My fingertips are coated by it.  
I loathe when anything liquid or stick-  
-y touches my skin or clothes. Don't ruin my  
clothes or skin. Dont stain it with your nose-  
-bleed. I hate to see it. Don'tet me  
look. I can't. I can't. Don't make  
me look. It reminds me of my dog. Like  
an open wound that blooms as a rose. I  
remember holding her still as red spilt.  
And that is in my name, in my core. So.


	6. My Dad

My father had insisted on me having a  
full Scandinavian name when they were waiting  
for me to he born. Which I still don't get.  
Why Scandinavian? As if my life wasn't  
already going to be hard enough without  
my father there. Not that I care. I don't.  
I don't struggle to call him "my father"  
instead of "my dad". I don't miss him at  
all. I lie a lot about that. I lie to  
myself. It's getting really easy to.  
It's easier to bury the anger in  
my chest than it is to confront it. I do  
not like feeling angry. Not at myself, not  
at him. It's disappointing. As much as  
that time my mom cut open one of our gold  
pears and there was a worm. We didn't get any  
pears that summer. Like how I can't get any  
sleep this year. There are too many nightmares in  
my head. Because I think I get my lying from  
my dad. And maybe that makes him proud.


End file.
